


The Myth of Aziraphale

by Shay_Moonsilk



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Armageddon never happened, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Declarations Of Love, Gen, Good Omens AU event, Inspired by Hades and Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), M/M, Mutual Pining, Nice Gabriel (Good Omens), No Antichrist, Paperwork, Politics, Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Ruler of Hell Crowley (Good Omens), Service Top Crowley (Good Omens), Smut, Top Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:28:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24964495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shay_Moonsilk/pseuds/Shay_Moonsilk
Summary: “I didn’t really Fall,” Crowley reflected, twisting the apple about in his hands. “Just, you know. Sauntered vaguely downwards.”“Downwards, into ruling the Underworld?” Aziraphale asked, unable to keep the dubiousness out of his voice. He kept his gaze on the demon’s face, lest he be tempted to eat the apple and seal his fate to Crowley. It did look rather tempting.The King shrugged and said, “Promotions come easy to me,” and took a large bite, though it was Aziraphale himself that felt devoured.---Armageddon never happened. Crowley is the King of Hell. Aziraphale doesn't want to get married to an angel he doesn't love. Perhaps time in the underworld will help them find the answers they need.Written for the Good Omens AU Event
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 172
Kudos: 528
Collections: Good AUmens AU Fest





	1. A Proposal Is Made

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you is given owed to several people, namely SparkleInTheStars, IsleofSolitude, and Sadwendigo, for giving me such detailed feedback. Sadwendigo helped write a paragraph and gifted it for the fic in the first chapter, and I can't thank you enough. Sparkle helped talk me through a major plot point, and I wouldn't have been able to finish this without your help.

After the Great War between the angels and the demons, The Almighty and Satan decided that the best thing they could do would be to take a hands-off approach to the earth and the running thereof. So She left Her angels to divide work governing matters of the planet, and Satan appointed his favorite demons to manage temptations of the Earth and sections of the Underworld and what to do with the humans when they were no longer alive. Lucifer was the king, for a while, until he was overthrown. Sure, he could have fought back, but he took it as a chance for a well-deserved vacation. So he went off to haunt and spread his wiles “with the people”. Los Angeles was his favorite place to be. 

Michael and Gabriel took to the heavens, to try and create some sense of order and balance after the smoke settled. Gabriel took command of thunder, lightning, and the sky. Michael, always so skilled at negotiating with non-heavenly creatures, took to the seas to figure out just what was going on with that. They made Sandalphon, so proficient at smiting, the Champion of Wars, and Fighting. Uriel became a patron of the arts, and so on.

Other angels were assigned to jobs that they expressed interest in, and Aziraphale was no exception. After all the wretched fighting, Aziraphale had been tasked with looking after the Garden, and he had enjoyed it immensely. Yes, there had been that nasty business what with casting out the first man and woman, but he had gotten to meet a rather lovely demon! Of course, Aziraphale knew better than to call Crowley lovely, his dear friend would get most annoyed. Crowley had a very important job, Satan had tasked him with ruling the underworld, but then a few thousand years later he learned that Crowley had become the new King! It didn’t stop them from getting to see important moments, like the first time Hamlet was performed or getting crepes in Paris. Priorities, and all that.

Although the Garden had long since been boarded up, Aziraphale had pleaded to be allowed to remain on Earth, in order to spread more beautiful green things to all the living mortals. Unable to resist indulging Aziraphale, Gabriel acquiesced. He looked on the younger angel with the protective eye of an older brother. Woe betide any angel that accused Aziraphale of benefitting from nepotism within earshot of Gabriel; he was violently protective.

But Aziraphale had no ambitions for anything other than spreading joy and enjoying the earth, and he was largely left alone to pursue his own pleasures. He enjoyed trying the tasty morsels that humans created over the centuries. For there was nothing, in his mind, that distinguished humans more for their ability to cook and craft the food they consumed. Others used food as a means of survival, but humans made food an _art form._ And Aziraphale _adored_ indulging.

To mortals, his job consisted of owning a rare and antique bookstore, but really it was so much more than that. The shop was a safe haven to those that found themselves on the margins of society; queer youth that had nowhere to go, shy strangers that needed a moment of refuge from the rain, the occasional straggler that just needed to sit for a moment and catch their breath before going about their day.

As long as one didn’t try to actually _buy_ anything, AZ Fell and Co. was a lovely bookshop indeed. For those who did, well. It explained the 2.5 stars on _Yelp_ , not that he knew what _Yelp_ was.

That day, he was feeling rather peckish and was fancying himself a trip to his favorite patisserie around the corner when the door to his shop opened with a gentle _ding._ His back was to the door while he was busy allocating dust to some of his John Steinbeck’s, so the intruder missed the grumpy look that came over his face. The angel took a moment to school his features into something more altogether pleasant and made to turn around.

“Terribly sorry, I’m afraid I was just closing for the- _Oh!”_ He stopped short upon seeing who was at his door.

“Gabriel, Sandalphon! Oh. What-what a surprise.” Aziraphale gave a smile, attempting to mask the nervousness he felt. He had just had his monthly report check-in with Gabriel last week. Ever since he had started working on Earth full-time, Gabriel had always had his assistant contact Aziraphale for their in-person check-ins. The assistant would then confirm the year before, the month before, the day before, and then the morning of, as was the custom. Very rarely did Gabriel drop in with no prior notice, and only twice in the last fifty years.

One time he did in the year 1973. Gabriel had just done a management seminar that recommended acting casually with employees and enjoying recreational activities. What resulted was the most uncomfortable game of golf in Aziraphale’s entire life, and they both agreed to never repeat it again. Another was in 2006, when Gabriel brought the news that they weren’t enacting Armageddon due to policy decisions.

Whenever Gabriel came in unannounced, there was always flair and urgency. Aziraphale had to drop everything and couldn’t give any notice about it to anyone that might have been inconvenienced. It didn’t matter if he had dinner reservations, social engagements, volunteer commitments, or anything in between. If Aziraphale were more familiar with the inner workings of the service industry, he would have been able to liken it to being on-call every possible minute of every possible day.

It meant that what Aziraphale was doing on his own didn’t matter. The angel was a servant of heaven, and when heaven called, he was bound to obey no matter what he thought.

Aziraphale stepped out from behind the shield of his desk. “Was there an issue with my last report?” He asked. “I know that I triple-checked to ensure everything was in order-”

“Oh, _psh_ , no, nothing wrong with your report!” Gabriel waved him off with a wide smile, making a face at the thought. “No no, it’s perfect, as usual. I always tell Sandalphon how you always have the most _flawless_ reports.”

“He does,” Sandalphon offered, giving a slow grin that made the light reflect off the gold in his smile. It always made Aziraphale shift uneasily, and now was no exception.

Gabriel waved him off. “What we’re here for is something _really_ exciting, and I’ll _bet_ you didn’t see this one coming sunshine.” He and Sandalphon exchanged a glance, both seeming rather pleased over something, but what, Aziraphale had no idea.

“Aziraphale,” Gabriel said, turning towards him, “How long have you been down here?”

“Well, since the beginning,” Aziraphale answered, with a slight furrow of his brow.

“Right, a very long time!” Gabriel said.

“Too long,” Sandalphon added, and Gabriel nodded.

“Far too long,” He said. “You’ve practically gone native. Aziraphale, it’s time that you come home, to _heaven_ , with the rest of the Angels.”

Aziraphale knew better to react right away. If he protested too loudly, Gabriel would just get mad. He needed to be careful.

“But I don’t need to go… anywhere!” He implored, struggling to keep his voice casual. “I’ve been doing so much work here. Who would work if I were gone?”

Gabriel looked proud, as if Aziraphale had said the right thing. “I told you Sandalphon, the perfect angel. Focused on work. You’ll be quite happy with him.”

“I’m sure,” Sandalphon agreed.

“Wait,” Aziraphale said, interrupting another round of nodding. “Happy with me for what?”

Gabriel spread his hands out, triumphantly. “I’m pleased to announce that I’ve been working on arranging the perfect marriage for you!”

In the year 1793, Aziraphale had carefully avoided discorporation via guillotine in France. Thanks to Crowley, he avoided death by guillotine. But he could never forget the distinctive _swoosh_ the blade made as it fell from its perch in the time before the demon had rescued him.

It was that noise, that sickening sensation that Aziraphale both heard and felt as Gabriel made his declaration.

“Well?” Gabriel asked.

Aziraphale startled. “Pardon?”

“Well, aren’t you pleased? I’ve arranged your marriage, Sunshine.”

“Arranged my marriage,” he echoed hollowly.

This was… not unheard of. Some angelic supervisors were expected to represent and advocate for their underlings. Usually, that just meant the bosses arranged for quarter-century celestial wage raises. But Gabriel was never one to do anything half or partway. No, he wanted to take care of Aziraphale’s entire future. If the majority of the archangels would sound off on it, there didn’t seem to be much Aziraphale could do. And with one archangel marrying him to another, well. It seemed that it had been decided on, and Aziraphale hadn’t even been part of the conversation about his future.

Not that this mattered to Gabriel, of course.

The archangel huffed, bemused. “ _Well_ , Aziraphale, when would you like the wedding?”

It took every part of Aziraphale to keep a straight face. To not protest. He had to be careful. If he got angry or fought back, Gabriel would just act indignant and force the wedding to happen instantly. Which was the last thing Aziraphale wanted.

“Well… at-at least six months,” He said. Both Gabriel and Sandalphon gaped at him.

“Six… six months?” Sandalphon spluttered.

Aziraphale nodded, embellishing the little white lie. “Yes, precisely. I’ll need six months to take care of things. Sell off the shop. Tie off loose ends. That sort of thing. It will absolutely take that long. So. Toodle-pip! Lots of straightening out to do! I really _really_ must be on my way.”

In a blur, he forcibly bade Gabriel and Sandalphon a good day, and they left his shop. Firmly he closed it and locked the doors, making sure that the sign said ‘closed’

Struggling to breathe, and needing a change of scenery, Aziraphale hurried out the backdoor, not willing to cross paths with Gabriel and Sandalphon so soon again. He was not thinking clearly. Gone were the idle thoughts of getting a nibble. Not with the way his future seemed to be unfolding. Six months? To say good-bye? To leave all that he loved behind to be wed against his will?

The crowds around him, normally so soothing, felt oppressive. And Aziraphale held no desire to be surrounded, and thus, he willed himself away. He appeared in a green grassy field, miles away from his beloved SoHo. It didn’t matter, at that moment, to know where he was. He just wanted to be away from all of it.

“ _Sandalphon_?!” He cried out to the lush fields around him. “Marry me off? To _Sandalphon_?!”

The grass swayed judgmentally below him.

“Oh, stop that!” Aziraphale pleaded. “I know there’s nothing wrong with him. Sandalphon is a - he’s a fine angel. But he’s not- _we’re_ not meant to _be_!”

It was true. Sandalphon, as the patron angel of war and destruction, had always come across as intimidating to Aziraphale. He had no issue _per se_ with the other angel, but Aziraphale could hardly imagine building a life with him!

“I don’t want to leave all of this behind,” He said, gazing about the greenery. It was springtime. Flowers all about were blooming. Trees were standing at their fullest. _Life_ was happening, and Aziraphale would never get to see it again.

“I love this place,” Aziraphale reflected. “I love… I love humanity. The way that people come together. The way that people can create - the _choices_ that they make! Oh. How I wish I could make my own _choices_.”

He sank, sadly, to the grass below. Later, he would bemoan the stains that would undoubtedly appear on his clothing, but for now, he wanted to have a moment to mope. Aziraphale was so caught up in his own moping, however, that he did not notice that he wasn’t alone.

\-------------

Crowley hadn’t always been the ruler of the underworld. He had once been the Serpent of Eden, and the creation of free will was definitely in the top ten of his greatest achievements. Not necessarily the top five, he _was_ rather proud of his work on the M25, selfies, Twitter, frappuccinos, and bringing down cell phone towers after all. But still. Giving Humanity the means of free will was definitely up there.

And while the whole free will thing wasn’t his _best_ accomplishment, it _did_ lead to one of the best moments of his life.

A conversation with the most beautiful angel he had ever seen.

From the very first glance, his serpentine heart had changed its rhythm for Aziraphale. It drummed in a steady beat that accelerated into a dance whenever he was near. The angel had been a beacon for him, a reason to continue his work even on the roughest of days. With his duties and responsibilities, he didn’t always have the time to see Aziraphale, but he took whatever chances that he could. And each time he did, he had fallen all over again, harder and faster than he ever fell before. Aziraphale was meant to be adored, and Crowley knew from Eden onward that he would be the best one to do it.

Though his work kept him busy, his angel kept him busier. Aziraphale had always been a magnet for trouble, often needing rescuing for the silliest of reasons _. Like nearly losing his pretty head over some French delights in Paris ages ago_. And while it was bad for his health, and Crowley continued to fret over his angel, the smile that came at his arrival made it all the more worthwhile. They spent seasons on Earth this way, time brought them together as if fate enjoyed it. Crowley could always be counted on to come running when his angel needed him.

But to see Aziraphale now, with a weepy expression and sorrowful voice, Crowley was tugged forward by an invisible thread that tied them together. From the earth below he rose - it didn’t matter if he didn’t know where they were, all that mattered was that he was near Aziraphale. He overheard the angel’s conversation with himself, and without missing a beat, the demon came forward.

“What’s all this about making _choices_ , angel?”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale’s face lit up at the sight of him. He pushed himself up off the ground, frowning at the grass stains that had already formed on his perfectly kept clothes. Crowley was quick to catch on to the blonde’s disapproval, miracling away the marks left by the earth, making Aziraphale’s clothes impeccable once again.

The angel gave him a sweet smile for his troubles, and warmth fluttered inside Crowley’s cold chest. “I’m to be married.”

“Married,” Crowley repeated the word, pushing it out of his mouth like it was an insult. _His_ angel was to be married? Aziraphale nodded, twiddling his fingers out of habit.

“Gabriel has arranged it. I’m to be wed in six months and live up in Heaven with my betrothed. Sandalphon-”

“ _Sandalphon?”_ Crowley cried out, “Gabriel’s trying to marry you off to _Sandalphon?”_

Aziraphale huffed a breath out of propriety, to put up a half-hearted protest he didn’t believe. “Sandalphon is a perfectly respectable-”

Crowley snorted dubiously, “Yeah, sounds like a match made in -” He began to laugh, “Oh wait, no, _literally,_ this was _literally_ a match made in heaven!”

By principle, Aziraphale refused to laugh, although it was a good jape from his friend. “I’m glad it’s amusing to you,” he pouted, “But it’s not what I want. I don’t want to leave Earth, I love it here!”

“Hm,” Crowley mused. His head began to spin, however, and an idea hatched in his mind. “Well, yes, Earth. Wonderful place.”

The demon grinned as he began to circle Aziraphale like usual, enjoying the blue eyes that followed his every move. “But you know, the Underworld is lovely this time of year, it’d be a shame for you to miss it. We’ve never been able to get you down to visit me, after all.”

“That is true,” Aziraphale sighed, “Oh, forgive me. And we won’t get to go out and enjoy meals together, either, it would seem.” His face, if it were possible, fell even further. “That’s really the worst part of all this. Spending time with you is my favorite part of being on earth.”

Hope flared in Crowley’s chest. “What if you said _no_?"

Aziraphale startled, clearly this was something he had not thought of. " _No_?" He said.

"Yeah, just tell him no!" Crowley encouraged. It wasn't the first time they had had this conversation. Aziraphale wanting to do something that went against the will of his superiors, but demurring because he couldn’t stand displeasing the other angels.

“I’ve never said no, not directly to my boss,” Aziraphale said slowly, and Crowley wanted to scream _Yes I know so please say no this time_ , but he didn’t. A demon could exercise self-restraint, especially the ruler of Hell.

“There’s always a time to start,” He offered instead. Aziraphale looked at him pleadingly. Clearly wanting to agree, but seeming too nervous to actually do that.

Crowley could work with that. Temptations were his specialty. He slid closer, willing an apple to appear in his hand.

“Come away, with me, you don’t have to actually get married.”

Aziraphale glanced at him and looked away quickly. “I… I couldn’t.”

Crowley stepped closer. At this point, the angel and demon were essentially breathing the same air. He held up the apple.

“It’s my domain Down There, remember? I’m the King. You’d be safe.”

“I couldn’t possibly be safe,” Aziraphale protested. “Hell is full of Fallen Angels. You are a fallen angel, lest we forget! And we both know what demons do to angels that go where they shouldn’t!”

“I didn’t really Fall,” Crowley reflected, twisting the apple about in his hands. “Just, you know. Sauntered vaguely downwards.”

“Downwards, into ruling the Underworld?” Aziraphale asked, unable to keep the dubiousness out of his voice. He kept his gaze on the demon’s face, lest he be tempted to eat the apple and seal his fate to Crowley. It did look rather tempting.

The King shrugged and said, “Promotions come easy to me,” and took a large bite, though it was Aziraphale himself that felt devoured.

“It’s your choice,” Crowley said, now holding up the apple. Aziraphale stared at it. Was this how Adam felt when Eve offered him the forbidden fruit? Love and temptation in her eyes, willing him to make the choice that she made, to taste the fruit as she had, for it to be a sin they could share? Splitting the burden, and all that?

Love for Crowley filled his breast, it made him want to take that temptation. To make that leap. But there was so much that he didn’t know. Crowley was his friend, his best friend, his closest companion, but could he forsake everything? Gabriel, his supervisor, his brother, had given him so much, and he had the community of heaven. To say yes to Crowley would be to reject his people. The angels that had been by his side for over six thousand years. They would count him a traitor.

But Crowley…

Crowley had the apple. His eyes were golden, and the sight of him took Aziraphale’s breath away.

As Aziraphale made to answer, a glimmer of movement caught Crowley’s attention. An unpleasant aroma came over him, and he turned to see where it came from. His insides froze to see Sandalphon materializing.

The archangel had seen him and was angrily making his way toward them. Sandalphon was preparing to smite them, and Crowley needed to act now.

“Shit,” Crowley swore, “Sorry angel, no time left.”

Aziraphale hadn’t noticed him yet. “Whatever do you-”

But before he could finish his sentence, the earth beneath them had opened and closed, pulling them beneath its depths.


	2. Your Wish, My Command

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale sees his very good friend's palace, and Gabriel hatches a plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your kind feedback! I really appreciate it. It's exciting to see this story come together. 
> 
> A note for the beginning of the chapter: Armageddon never happened, so much of the show didn't happen in this fic. But there were so many cute moments, and I wanted to make sure that they appeared here. 
> 
> Also, they share a meal, and the menu for that meal came from the menu for high tea at the Empress Hotel, in Canada. If you ever have the chance/means/ability post-sheltering, you should go!

There were many ways Crowley had imagined bringing Aziraphale to his kingdom. Most of them involved a passionate declaration of love, with the angel swooning into his arms, where Crowley would then carry him to a horse-drawn carriage. The carriage would be black of course, pulled by infernal stallions as large as Clydesdales. He could then bring Aziraphale to his private chambers where they would consummate their relationship for weeks.

The reality was far less than desirable.

“You pulled me down here!” Aziraphale cried out. He looked petulantly angry, which normally was adorable, but not when it was directed at him. Aziraphale looked down, now taking in his soot and mud-stained clothing. In his rush to pull them away from Sandalphon, Crowley had neglected to make their journey down clean.

“And the state of my coat!”

Crowley wisely didn’t point out that all of his clothing was a mess. Instead, he made a show of circling the angel, taking in the dirt.

“Can always miracle it away,” He pointed out. Aziraphale gave a sigh, and then looked at him in a pout.

“But… I’d always know,” Aziraphale said.

He was a brat. Mockingly, Crowley pouted back at him, but he was a demon in love. With a quick exhale, he slowly blew off the stains.

Momentarily mollified, Aziraphale gave him a happy little smile. “Thank you.”

That was when he seemed to remember where they were.

“Are… are we in Hell?” Aziraphale asked, looking about, surprised by how bland everything looked. Crowley couldn’t blame him, there wasn’t much to see. He had pulled them into a smaller antechamber, one of the smaller spaces in his palace. Not his quarters, not the throne room, nowhere large. Not yet.

“Your _betrothed_ ,” He spat out the words as a curse, “Saw us. I had to act fast.”

Aziraphale scoffed, looking more put-out than upset. That was a good sign.

A thought occurred to Crowley. “You don’t, you don’t _want_ to marry Sandalphon, do you? Was it arranged by your choice?”

Crowley realized, with a sudden flash of worry, that Aziraphale hadn’t really given him an opinion on his upending nuptials. Though any worry that he had acted with impropriety was dashed at the withering look Aziraphale gave him.

“Gabriel arranged this marriage without consulting me at any step of the way,” Aziraphale said bitterly, “It was all I could do to delay the wedding. Sandalphon wouldn’t have been _my_ choice.”

Crowley tilted his head, taking a few steps closer. “And… who would your choice have been?”

The angel found his mouth had gone rather dry when he tried to swallow. Crowley stood right before him. Their height difference had never been so great before, but in this position, Aziraphale had to look up to see him.

“I, I hadn’t given it much thought.” He lied. Crowley took a half step back, and the moment was broken. Aziraphale began to look around once more.

“Well, this is a lovely place, but I really must be going. Can you show me the exit?”

Crowley snorted. “There’s no exit. It’s _Hell._ It’s not some sort of mall where you come and go as you please!”

“But what about you?” Aziraphale pressed.

“What about me?”

“You come and go as you please! You always do. You make a big show of it, that you get to turn up wherever you like. All the time you say, _‘Oh Aziraphale, I’m my own boss, I make my own hours’.”_

Crowley growled, noticing the way Aziraphale flushed as he did. “Oy, that sounds nothing like me. And the _King_ comes and goes, that's how it works. Guests and subjects are bound to his will, and you’re _my_ guest, so you’re here at _my_ pleasure.”

Aziraphale’s ears went pink, which was another good sign. But he didn’t look too happy. Crowley needed him to be happy. Not just because it made him more agreeable, but because, well, the love.

“It won’t be all bad,” He consoled, “C’mon, I can get the best takeout here, all your favorite foods. Your wish is _literally_ what I could command. And there’s the Bach’s, Schubert, Mozart. We went to a Beethoven symphony last month at the theatre. How would you like a private concert with Beethoven himself?”

That did it. Aziraphale looked at him with surprise.

“You… you could do that?”

It wasn’t just a look of surprise. Aziraphale was impressed. He’d never really considered Crowley’s full power. And Crowley always liked to remind him that Hell had all the best composers.

Crowley gave a smirk. Pride flowed through him, and he let it show. “The perks of being King,” He cooed, offering his arm to Aziraphale. “Being my guest here won’t be so bad at all, trust me.”

Aziraphale offered a shy smile and took his arm.

Getting a tour with the King of Hell was a rather lovely experience. Aziraphale got to see other demons bow their heads as Crowley walked by. They ignored Aziraphale for the most part, especially when Duke Hastur tried to speak with him. Though, speak was perhaps putting it kindly.

“What the _bloody_ hell is one of them wankers doing here,” The Duke growled, taking a menacing step closer.

It’s important to understand how power works in relation to distance, for those that are unaware. Demons close to the epicenter of Hell - which is Crowley’s palace - will be at their strongest. As their ruler, Crowley is the strongest demon, and in his home, which he is now, he is unparalleled. In contrast, if a demon were to be in heaven, they would be weakened by the distance. Earth serves as neutral territory. The opposite is true for angels, meaning that Aziraphale’s power is limited in these surroundings. It’s for that reason, and that reason only, he tells himself, that he moves closer to Crowley for protection.

It has nothing to do with the over six thousand years of knowing that if he had ever been in trouble, he could always rely on Crowley to be there to protect him. Or the fact that Aziraphale can always trust in the knowledge that he’s safest with Crowley. That memories of the moments Crowley has helped him and saved him are some of the happiest of his life.

No, not at all.

Crowley stepped in front of Aziraphale to match Hastur’s growl with one of his own. And several of the Eric’s, and Ligur, took a step back from seeing their King.

“If you challenge Aziraphale, you challenge me, and you know that you don’t want to do that.”

If it were any other demon, it would be a threat. Coming from Crowley, it was a promise.

“I took down _Satan_. Do you really think that _you_ would give me a challenge?”

Hastur didn’t reply, but everyone could see the regret in his eyes.

“So ask yourself,” Crowley hissed, leaning in, eyes glinting dangerously, “Are you feeling lucky?”

Clearly, Hastur did not feel lucky. Without another word, he backed away. He was glaring, but demons liked to glare and this was to be expected.

As if nothing had happened, Crowley offered his arm to Aziraphale again, who took it silently.

“Thank you,” he said softly, feeling stunned. On some level, Aziraphale had always known and recognized that they were friends. But there was always a small bit of him that worried that maybe he was laughed at. The silly little angel, thinking he was friends with a demon. Now he knew it wasn’t so silly at all. He and Crowley really were dear friends. Best friends. And he was there on the demon’s invitation, and no one would dare hurt him without risking the wrath of Crowley.

“Coming, angel?”

With a shake, Aziraphale realized that he hadn’t responded to Crowley.

“Of course,” The angel smiled, taking his arm. They walked a ways away before Aziraphale spoke again. “I really do appreciate what you did back there.”

“He had no business speaking that way to you.”

Aziraphale gave him a smile. “It was sweet of you.”

Now Crowley growled at him. “I am not _sweet,_ don’t you forget it.”

“Of course, of course, not sweet at all. My mistake.” Aziraphale consoled, “You said we could meet Schubert later?”

“Yeah,” Crowley said, refusing to acknowledge the irony. He was willful and stubborn that way. 

Yes, Aziraphale decided, nestling into his side as they walked. It was rather nice indeed being Crowley’s guest. He was looking forward to their evening together.

\-------

Up in Heaven, lightning struck all around. The Archangel Fucking Gabriel was in quite the sour mood. The phrase “don’t shoot the messenger” wasn’t commonly used in Heaven, because Heaven didn’t have idioms or expressions if they weren’t literal. Sandalphon was considered the “funny angel” in the office, if that gave any indication of what the culture surrounding humor was like.

All this to say Sandalphon, who had gone up to alert Gabriel of what had happened, was now cowering behind a pillar. Uriel was behind another one, glaring at him for bringing news to make their boss so angry.

“Aziraphale has been taken!” Gabriel roared, “By that stupid new King! That’s an act of war!”

Everyone was too busy hiding to agree or disagree. Sandalphon tried to poke his head out to point out that it was really only an act of war if Aziraphale was hurt, but a bolt of lightning that flew too close to his ear made him remain where he was.

_“What is the meaning of this.”_

All hiding angels breathed a collective sigh of relief. Michael had heard the shouting and had come herself to see what the ruckus was about. If anyone could make Gabriel see sense, it was her.

“Aziraphale has been angel-napped!” Gabriel raged.

The other Archangel looked unimpressed. “So you’re going to cause a lightning storm around heaven? What good does that do for getting Aziraphale back.”

No other angel would dare to take such a tone, but she could. She was the Archangel Fucking Michael.

Gabriel stopped, and several angels took the detente as a divine sign to flee. “I can’t go down there,” He complained, “It’s the Enemy’s Kingdom. There’s paperwork, and formalized negotiation treaties to file. I can’t just drop in and demand they give him back!”

“Well then, get a move on,” Michael suggested, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. “You’ve let him get away with whatever he wanted, and that meant the new King took notice. Of course, this would happen. So now you need to decide if you’re going to let him get away with it, or if you’re going to bring our brother home to face his destiny.”

Gabriel took a deep breath in through his nose, trying to reign his temper under control. “Of course, of course.”

After a few minutes, he rolled his shoulders and made his way over to his desk.

Requesting an audience with the Demon King was a file in the 666 categories, naturally. And then depending on the audience he needed, that was a subsection form. Audiences in a matter of negotiation were 666-A, but this was a negotiation resulting in an act of war, which the angel-napping was. So that meant 666-AC1, for a ceasefire. But also maybe 666-FB2, in case Aziraphale was hurt and he could exact revenge. Though if he wanted that he needed a requisite permission form, which was 1856-BPLZ, and he needed a 7643-3FT for that.

Gabriel let out a sigh. These were all going to have to be in triplicate. He had better get a move on, he couldn’t bear to imagine his poor little brother alone in Hell. Aziraphale was much too soft for this!

He hoped Aziraphale could remain strong until he could get there and save the day.

\---------------------------------

There was no other way to put it.

Aziraphale was having the time of his celestial life.

He and Crowley had enjoyed a lovely walk through the Palace Gardens, where Crowley had taken to growing beautiful plants around his palace. It was an impressive feat despite the lack of sunlight. There were a few disposable demons, that liked to collectively be called ‘Eric’, and a small waddling demon referred to as ‘Usher’ milling about. It wasn’t his name, but rather his job. He wouldn’t tell Aziraphale what his name was. These must be servants, and they were only around the perimeter of the grounds.

For a moment, Crowley had told Aziraphale to go ahead, while he pulled Usher aside to give an order for a special dinner with Aziraphale. He was quick to send him off, as there was a matter of lunch to settle.

Thankfully, Crowley had the contact information for the most famous deceased chefs - both in and out of his domain. Those connections meant he had access to menus from all over the world, and from any time period. So those chefs did what they could with the instructions: _Make it perfect, it’s for my angel._

In the meantime, Aziraphale had taken to admiring the flowers and plants that had grown.

“It’s marvelous, what you’ve made here,” Aziraphale beamed, as Crowley caught up with him. “I wish I had been down here sooner.”

“All that matters is that we’re here now,” Crowley replied. They moved deeper, passing through each ring. The hedges varied in height, but most were higher than they were. It created the illusion of total privacy, making them feel as if they were in their own little world. Aziraphale realized that he enjoyed the feeling. The more they walked, the closer Aziraphale let himself tuck into Crowley’s side. It reminded him of the young courting couples of the Edwardian era, though they were much closer.

“This is the innermost ring,” Crowley introduced, and Aziraphale gave a little gasp. It was incredible!

The center had a large tree, full of apples. By all accounts, Aziraphale should have snorted at the Eden parallel, but it worked here. To accentuate the tree, four small benches with enough space for two were framed against the hedges. It created a near square effect. The eastern bench was offset from the others, it had a table that had been set up during their walk and was laden with food.

Crowley led him to the bench, inviting him to sit. Aziraphale did, admiring the spread before them.

“Another perk,” Crowley said, not even bothering to hold the pride from his voice. “Is that I am connected with the best chefs that ever lived - upstairs or downstairs.”

“It’s remarkable,” Aziraphale complemented. And it was. There was cold-smoked salmon with chives and crème fraîche on blinis, chicken brioche with spicy curry, artichoke and red pepper with truffle mayonnaise on rye, baby shrimp salad with lemon and chives, and cucumber sandwiches with fennel. For desserts, they had raisin scones with a variety of preserves, a small variety of macarons, a few cakes, select tarts, and assorted chocolates.

“Eh, it was nothing,” Crowley grinned and gave Aziraphale an amused look when the angel raised a doubtful eyebrow at him.

The king was treated to the lovely sight of Aziraphale trying and sampling each of the foods before them. Aziraphale closed his eyes, savoring every bite with appreciative noises.

It was the most erotic meal of Crowley’s life...

...and it ended all too soon. Aziraphale dabbed his mouth with his napkin in the familiar way that indicated he was done. With a wave of the King’s hand, their dishes vanished out of sight. “So, what do you think?” He asked. Aziraphale smiled at him.

“It’s all rather lovely,” Aziraphale said, utterly charmed. “And I see you enjoy the Eden parallels,” he nodded in the direction of the tree with the apples. Crowley stopped smiling.

“Is something the matter?” The angel asked.

“I didn’t actually plant that one,” Crowley explained, “It grew here when I took over. How much do you know? About when I became King?”

Aziraphale blinked at the non sequitur. Crowley had always remained tight-lipped about the whole affair. They had met in a tavern in Rome, the demon had been plenty irritable until they went for oysters. Over their meal, and after much ale on Crowley’s part, the demon confessed that Hell was “Under New Management” but didn’t elaborate much further. Aziraphale had learned the truth second-hand from Michael, who had been with him at Camelot much later. He remembered being furious with Crowley when they ran into each other, so much so that he hadn’t registered the demon trying to ask him about the Arrangement at the time. Much later, years later, after he had cooled off he had become more amenable to such discussions, but they never personally discussed Crowley’s job change.

“Admittedly, not much,” Aziraphale confessed. “Michael told me because she knew that you and I had dealt with each other before. She wanted tips. I was rather… upset that you hadn’t said anything.”

Aziraphale could remember how upset he had been. Crowley had wanted to discuss the arrangement, but the angel had been reeling and too hurt to listen. At least, Aziraphale was sure that it had been the arrangement that Crowley had wanted to bring up.

“Michael,” Crowley hissed, making a face. “Michael’s a wanker.”

Aziraphale made a tsk noise but didn’t press it. He could sense that Crowley was finally going to explain just what had happened all those years ago.

“Right,” Crowley said. He leaned in such a way to get more comfortable and looked at Aziraphale. “So. I wasn’t in a good place, after the whole…” he made a gesture with his hands, “flood and crucifixion thing. And something you said, it really got to me. That you weren’t consulted on the policy decisions.”

Guilty, Aziraphale looked away, and Crowley swore.

“Ngk- no. Fuck. Angel that wasn’t against you. I didn’t blame you for that.” He laid a hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder, who looked startled at the touch. But it wasn’t unwelcome. The angel looked at the demon, and he was struck by Crowley’s expression. There was no swagger, no joking, no pretend airs. Everything was earnest.

“But it made me think. What if I _made_ the policy decisions? She’s not talking to any of us. But there should be some bloody standards for everything. It’s like what I’ve been doing for years. Present people with the choice. Let them make the decision. Some people will choose right, and others will choose wrong. But you can’t just take it out of their hands or smite people retroactively. I took control from Lucifer, and I’ve been slowly implementing all this.”

Aziraphale was stunned to hear all of this. He knew how passionately Crowley believed in how people should be allowed to make decisions. And in all honesty, the angel agreed with this philosophy. Most of the work that he had done himself had been to influence and encourage people to do good.

“How has that been?”

Crowley slumped a bit, and it occurred to Aziraphale just how busy his poor dear has been over the centuries. “Fucking exhausting.”

Aziraphale instinctively scooted closer. “What could I do?”

At that moment, Crowley was grateful that they were alone, so no one could see the blush that came over his face. But with the force of Aziraphale’s care and adoration, what other alternative did he have?

“Being here, that helps,” Crowley said, “I have helpers, and demons that do the day to day, but none of them really know me the way you do.”

“I’m sure,” Aziraphale acknowledged. “I remember when you thought Noah only needed one Unicorn to make more.”

“Oy!”

Aziraphale laughed and tried hard not to blush too visibly at the way Crowley’s gaze made him feel warm all over. It was the attraction; he knew this now. Who would have thought Hell could be so, so, lovely? The angel was thankful that Crowley had brought him down. Their afternoon together had been lovely. For now, it would be nice to pretend that the whole thing was his choice. If only every day could be like this, and he wouldn’t have to think of his impending arranged marriage.

“But how does the tree weigh in?” The angel asked.

“Yeah, right.” Crowley had nearly forgotten about that. “So when he left, Satan thought it would be a cruel prank to put that there. But it’s not a normal tree. The fruit there is infused with the essence of this place. It’s meant for my… _mate_ to eat.”

“Your mate?” Aziraphale repeated, and Crowley nodded.

“Anyone who eats the fruit is given powers befitting the Royal Consort, but it comes at a price. They’re _bound_ to me. You - _they_ \- would be mine, forever. When Satan put that tree there, he made a point of telling all of us, and I do mean _all_ of us, that whoever at one of those apples was going to be judged harshly. They needed to be deemed properly worthy. And after, if they were judged, and they didn’t - I don’t know, blow up or something, then they would be my consort with the subservient duties that would require.” He gave a dry snort. “Some of them were thinking of stealing one, just so they’d have equal powers with me, but none of them want to belong to me. Not like that. Could you imagine? Someone… belonging? To me, like that?”

Aziraphale listened and didn’t react right away. But his whole world was spinning. Belonging… to Crowley? What an... _idea_.

What an idea, _indeed_.

“And have you… found someone suitable?” He asked.

Crowley furrowed his eyebrows. “Someone _suitable_? Wha’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well,” Aziraphale stressed, “To become your mate… they would have to be quite worthy indeed.”

They really would. To be the King’s Consort, in charge of commanding Hell, Crowley's partner? They would have to be someone extraordinarily remarkable. Aziraphale felt a sharp pain. Logically, he knew that his heart was beating, but emotionally he could feel it breaking off and sliding deeper inside of him. Shame curdled in his gut. Crowley needed a true mate to be his consort, someone who was worthy and strong and brave.

Aziraphale was none of those things. He didn't even have the strength to stand up to Gabriel when he had announced the arranged marriage.

For a moment, Crowley just looked at him blankly. Aziraphale kept his gaze, trying to keep his heart from breaking. Because he wasn’t an idiot. Subliminally he had always known that Crowley was a catch. The demon was charming, dashing, and so kind. For six thousand years he had been Aziraphale’s best friend, and Aziraphale had always known how lucky he was.

“Yeah,” Crowley said slowly, “They… they really would be.”

The angel didn’t quite know how to break the now awkward pause, so he looked about the garden, trying not to look at that tree any longer. “So, what else does a king do? When he’s not showing off his garden to his prolonged guests?”

“ _Oi_ , I’ve got a great garden.”

Aziraphale chucked. Crowley took in a breath and gave a non-sarcastic answer.

“Meet with Beelzebub and Dagon for a few hours. They’re essential, don’t ever tell them I told you that. Then it’s making sure the most important projects are happening. Really it’s keeping everyone busy with work, and setting an aloof example. I got Wi-Fi here a few years back, that was a big accomplishment. Lots of souls happy with that one, and the Duke’s ‘ve stopped asking what a computer is, so I’ve got that going for me.”

“How nice,” Aziraphale reflected, trying to imagine Crowley handling day to day responsibilities. His mind was reeling, nothing down here was what he had expected, not at all.

Crowley swallowed and made a thoughtful noise. “I’ll show you to your rooms, while you’re here.”

“My - my rooms?”

“Yeah, got a whole wing ready for you. Can rest before dinner tonight.”

Despite never having been in the mood for one, a nap suddenly seemed like the perfect way to spend a few hours. “I would like that,” Aziraphale smiled.

The King stood, offering an arm to the angel once more, and they left the garden. “You’ll find being here isn’t all that bad.” Crowley teased.

Aziraphale smiled, but he felt regret. He knew that Crowley was right, that being here with him wouldn’t be bad at all. In fact, it was rather lovely. No, he wasn’t worried about enjoying himself. What was he was worried about was leaving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed!


	3. Quite Heavenly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Staying in hell is quite heavenly, despite what Gabriel believes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I googled 'famous romantic classical music' for this.

Both heaven and hell like to take credit for paperwork. The argument on behalf of heaven is that paperwork creates a sense of purpose and order. Getting to process a report, or even getting to deny a report carries a weight to it. Angels love getting to carry their weight.

Paperwork is also very time-consuming. If a job requires printing out the paperwork, which it always does, it wastes resources. Then a boss or manager will find fault with a smudge from the copier and demand that all three hundred and fifty pages be reprinted, which makes the assistant who actually did all the actual work angry, and causes them to take that anger out on other people in the office. These are just a few of the many arguments that Hell will make.

Interestingly, both sides actually made paperwork, around the same time too. It was on the eighth day after everyone had rested. Michael and Lucifer had wanted to instill a sense of duty to the angels and demons that had spent the day lazing about.

Ever since Gabriel had calmed down from his earlier rage, he had been dutifully filling out paperwork for every angelic workday, a proper seven hours, and seventy-seven minutes with occasional seven-minute breaks to the Holy Water Cooler, for the past three months. The sheer amount of time spent on it wasn’t really his fault. After he finished with form 666-A, it turned out that there had been a typo on every page with a prime number, so that needed to be re-done. Then it turned out that no one was filling out 666-AC1 forms anymore, so he needed to go to the archives and request access. The archive angels did not like to be rushed, so his form had to sit in the queue with all the others, and complaining only made them go slower. He tried to work on 666-FB2, but then it required that he list every potential injury Aziraphale could have. That left him researching every single kind of injury a corporation could get - and there were so many! How did humans live? Then he started to get side-tracked because humans had things called podcasts, and he ended up accidentally wasting a human week researching those. Thankfully filling out forms 1856-BPLZ, and 7643-3FT only took three days each, a real time saver. 

But finally, finally! He had everything filed. Now it was just a matter of getting approved, which would just be a formality. He was _Gabriel,_ afterall. Eagerly, he brought everything to Michael’s office, where he set it on her table.

She looked at it and raised her eyebrow at him, unimpressed.

“Well?” He asked, grinning. “Let’s go save Aziraphale!”

“Are you serious?” Michael asked, and Gabriel was shocked to see her unimpressed stare directed at him. That wasn't supposed to happen. No angel had ever looked so blankly at him before. “I can’t accept this.”

Gabriel stopped smiling. “What?”

The Archangel Michael gave him a look, one that he had given to one too many of his own underlings, including Aziraphale. “These aren’t done. You haven’t filed them in triplicate.”

“ _What_?!”

“I’m not repeating myself,” Michael said. Uriel came in, holding her phone, and Michael took it, already moving on to other tasks. “If anything, I’m doing you a favor, Gabriel. The protocol indicates I would have to destroy this and you would start over from the beginning.”

For thousands of years, Gabriel was used to being on the other side of this. Angels under his purview would submit reports and files, and he would either accept or reject them. Gabriel had always thrown around his weight by accepting few proposals and rejecting many. When an underling made a mistake, he took no uncertain pride explaining to the unlucky angel where they had gotten wrong, and with vivid detail. Now it was _his_ turn to be scolded by Michael.

Unfortunately, the Archangel Gabriel was not self-aware enough to understand irony. “But that’s not fair!”

“It’s not about fair,” Uriel scoffed, “Just get it done, and do it right this time.”

The two of them left, and Gabriel let out a pent-up roar.

Uriel and Michael were outside of the office when they started to hear thuds and the sounds of thunder. They exchanged a look at each other, and then at the sea of cubicles where all angels were staring at the closed office door with alarm, craning their necks to catch a glimpse at the latest drama to fuel their gossip at the holy water cooler.

“Nothing to see,” Michael called, who did not enjoy office drama, “Just get back to work.”

Very slowly, angels did. Michael pursed her lips when she heard a particularly loud, just knowing he had destroyed her good monitor.

“I better get a form for that,” She muttered, and Uriel, understanding what she meant, nodded.

\-----------

The past three months in Hell had been heavenly, to excuse the irony. Aziraphale had taken to sleeping in the quarters Crowley had prepared for him, because living in Hell was tiring, and they were too lovely not to fully use. There was bedding, with soft silk sheets and a decadent tartan comforter, all in different shades of blue and brown. Crowley had arranged for his favorite books to line the shelves of the sitting area that he had. In truth, these quarters were much more comfortable than the small flat he kept above his bookshop, and more extravagant than his bookshop in a way that worked.

Every morning, he would awaken and dress for the day. Breakfast was spent in the palace dining room. In the evenings a grand table would be laid that could set upwards of twenty, but in the mornings a much smaller table with space for six was set up. Only he and Crowley used it, however. Breakfast was always spent with Crowley, where there would be a veritable buffet of Traditional English with additional assorted pastries that may have, and Aziraphale would bet all his snuffboxes that they _did_ , come from France. Crowley would be there to enjoy the meal with him, but he usually sated himself with coffee. If Aziraphale pleaded, which he usually did, he could convince the king to have some toast, bacon, and eggs for a more balanced meal. There was always a copy of the Infernal Times on the table, which Crowley would read while Aziraphale ate. It didn't stop him from talking to Aziraphale, and they usually made small talk about what he was reading, or what was on the docket for the day. 

Something Aziraphale was proud of was convincing him to take his early morning reports in that same room, for a more relaxed and friendly look. Not _during_ breakfast, heavens no. But after Aziraphale had finished, Beelzebub and Dagon would come in with their paperwork for the day, and they would sit with Crowley. They had balked at Aziraphale being there, but Crowley had made it very clear that if Aziraphale wanted to stay, he had every right to do so. To keep busy the angel busied himself in those first few days by offering them tea and other pastries. Beelzebub and Dagon accepted, but more out of shock that an angel would try and offer them hospitality in their King's Palace than out of a genuine desire to eat. Though after a few days they found themselves unwittingly eating the food Aziraphale offered without the usual token protests. It was rather hard to say no with the full force of his attention on them.

Aziraphale contented himself with listening to their conversations in the beginning. He had no idea what nuances were involved with running a kingdom, and unlike other angels, he had no desire to insert himself where he wasn't needed. Yet after two weeks of this routine, Aziraphale broke his rule when he decided to offer an idea.

"They’re getting bored,” Beelzebub warned Crowley, “Lurking and causing Doubts aren’t cutting it anymore. The younger ones are spreading rumors about wanting to cause Armageddon.”

The reigning King of Hell gave a derisive snort. “Yeah, like we want to take on heaven in a war. Worked out so great last time, didn’t it?”

There was a certain tone that Crowley, Dagon, and Beelzebub had with each other in these private settings. It wasn’t friendly, per se, but it wasn’t outright hostile. The two demons were allowed a certain candor, within reason, and Crowley didn’t hold back quite as much as he did in front of other members of his staff. Aziraphale had become accustomed to this, so he was unsurprised to see Dagon snort in agreement. Beelzebub didn't, but they rolled their eyes in a way to suggest they agreed. 

“Well, yeah,” Dagon agreed, “We know that. But they’re not smart enough to. There needs to be a plan or something that isn’t Hastur murdering every seventh demon that asks for work. Also, it can’t be paperwork again. They will literally destroy the eighth circle if it’s paperwork.”

“Yeah, don’t blame them,” Crowley was leaning back, trying to think through solutions.

“Seems like quite a pickle,” Aziraphale reflected. He sipped his tea, not seeing the stares from the three of them. “It’s a shame they don’t have shops to keep busy.”

“Shops?” Beelzebub asked.

Aziraphale nodded. “When I worked, as a field agent, there was a lot of downtime in between assignments,” he explained, “So as a way to set up the base of my own operations, I opened a bookshop. It was a lovely way to rest and feel like I had a home. A hobby to pass the time."

Dagon tilted her head. She asked, "So you sold books?"

Crowley grinned, fondly, as Aziraphale gave an indignant sniff. "Not if I could help it."

Despite only having known Aziraphale for a week, Beelzebub was tired of watching their king make mooning eyes at him, so they kept their gaze trained on Aziraphale.

“Did the bookshop keep you busy?”

Aziraphale nodded.

“Was it a distraction?”

The angel nodded again. Beelzebub tilted their head. “That… is not a bad idea.”

“What?” Crowley took his eyes off Aziraphale to look at them. “Get them all bookshops?”

Aziraphale’s eyes lit up, only to go dim when Beelzebub snorted and shook their head. “No. Not that. Or, maybe. Just the idea that we encourage them to get jobs. It’ll keep them busy. More direct access to tempting souls. Let them sow their oats. It'll keep them busy for a few hundred years. When they're bored again, they get a different job.”

Crowley and Dagon both looked at them, and then each other.

“It’ll get them out of hell,” Dagon said slowly.

“Doing their own work,” Crowley agreed.

“And they’ll shut it about war,” Beelzebub finished.

They all looked at Aziraphale. “That was a great idea,” Dagon said, sounding bewildered. Aziraphale smiled at her, but then looked down and blushed. The look on Crowley’s face had him overwhelmed. It was an affection the likes Aziraphale had never seen angled at him.

It should be noted that wasn't true. For centuries Crowley had angeled such gazes at Aziraphale before, but always with the good sense to do it while the angel’s back was turned. He didn’t mean for Aziraphale to see, but the idea that Aziraphale could be adept at working by his side in Hell was… blast it. It was _nice_.

“Well, thank you,” Aziraphale smiled.

“Alright, enough of this,” Beelzebub groused, pulling another report from the folders. After that moment, in the mornings it was as if a dam had broken. Aziraphale found himself regularly contributing ideas in these meetings, and Beelzebub and Dagon no longer treated him with suspicion.

After the morning meeting, Crowley walked the grounds with the Usher, and usually some of his Dukes. They would update him on matters on Earth, and Crowley would direct where they should focus and on whom. Aziraphale didn’t contribute as much to these meetings, and usually took this time to walk in Crowley’s private garden. He would bring a book or two, and read on a bench. Crowley would then join him, where they would sometimes have a garden lunch on one of the benches, or return to the palace and eat there. After lunch, Crowley will attend more private meetings, in his elaborate library. Aziraphale _loved_ the library. Sometimes he would sit near Crowley and offer silent support. Other times he would walk about the library, picking out books that interested him for his next day’s walk in the gardens.

Crowley would do this until he’d had enough for the day, and then he would coax Aziraphale into playing a game of chess, or dal, or watch a movie. They would have dinner in the grand dining room, which would be dressed up more extravagantly for the occasion.

The days were marvelous, and Aziraphale was at loathe to change this new routine.

When Aziraphale had been in Hell for one month, Crowley had planned something special.

After breakfast, and after the meeting with Beelzebub and Dagon, Aziraphale had gone into the garden with a copy of _Jane Eyre._ It was a story of a woman, scorned by her family, who had forsaken the man she loved out of a duty to what was right.

When he grew too disturbed by the symbolism halfway through, Aziraphale put the book down. He knew that eventually, she got to marry her great love. But reading the passage where she said no, it was too painful. Too indicative of his own life. Too much of a reminder that he couldn't have the happy ending she did. So instead he walked about the different circles, admiring the greenery. He stood in front of that Apple Tree, the one with the Forbidden Fruit.

One day, someone would eat this fruit. Someone who wanted to be Crowley’s mate. They would have to be worthy and willing to a life of serving the King of Hell. But it couldn’t be him. Aziraphale sat, paying attention to the shades of red, the vibrant greens. It was soothing and meditative and just the right touch of ironic to state at the one thing he wanted and couldn’t have.

There were footsteps that caught his attention, and Aziraphale looked up to see the manifestation of his desire in front of him.

“Hey angel,” Crowley said, and Aziraphale smiled at him.

“Well, this is a lovely surprise,” Aziraphale said, beaming. “I thought you had a meeting with Duke’s Hastur and Ligur.”

“Well, yeah,” Crowley moved to sit next to him. “Except, the thing is, I hate meeting with them. Especially when I know you’re out here and I can talk to you.”

Aziraphale felt himself go pink. How was he expected to form a reply when Crowley said things like _that_ to him? With no small amount of difficulty, he swallowed and tried to maintain a sense of decorum.

“Well, as much as I enjoy seeing you, you still have a _job_ to do.”

“I know,” Crowley agreed reluctantly, “But it occurred to me today, that you’ve been here a month already.”

That much was true, and Aziraphale said as such.

“And I realized that there were things I promised you that we haven’t done yet. Which we can’t have at all.”

Before Aziraphale could ask what he meant, Crowley stood and offered his arm. Aziraphale took it, deciding to trust him.

It turned out that Crowley had been referring to his promise of a private concert, in his quarters. Aziraphale didn’t frequently see Crowley’s private chambers, but they were extravagant. He had promised lunch in addition to his surprise. To Aziraphale’s delight, the surprise was an audience with Rachmaninoff, who played some of his most famous pieces on the piano. Lunch consisted of sushi. Crowley had gathered Aziraphale’s favorite rolls, and even ate a few pieces when Aziraphale raised his chopsticks and fed them to him. Of course, the demon’s enjoyment was watching Aziraphale enjoy himself, but if the angel wanted to feed him, he wasn’t going to say no.

Aziraphale set his chopsticks down, and took his napkin to dab at his mouth. Crowley vanished the plates, knowing that Aziraphale was done. Then, the demon looked back at him.

“Dance with me.”

“What?” Aziraphale blinked.

The thought hadn’t occurred to Crowley before, but now it had and it was all he could think about. “Dance with me, c’mon. It’s just you and me here.”

Crowley was right, but still. Aziraphale shifted. “You know I don’t know how.”

“I promise it’s not hard,” Crowley stood, offering a hand to the angel, “as I said, it’s just you and me here.”

Just to be petulant, Aziraphale gave a nod in the direction of Rachmaninoff. Crowley sighed.

“He’s looking at the sheet music, not at us.”

Aziraphale still hadn’t moved, but Crowley saw the way that he bit his lip, shifted, and fidgeted. The king resisted a smile. All he had to do was wait, and he knew Aziraphale would agree. Finally, the angel gave a soft sigh, and stood, taking his hand.

Crowley guided one of his arms to his shoulder and wrapped his arm around Aziraphale’s waist. There was the possibility that he hadn’t realized what it would be like to get to caress Aziraphale’s hip with his hand, and maybe he hadn’t thought it through. Something he had always known was that he had one body type preference: Aziraphale’s. Now he was going to get to hold that body in his arms while they swayed to the music. It was both everything he had ever wanted and the greatest torture imaginable.

Then Aziraphale leaned his head on his shoulder, and Crowley’s heart stopped from the shock of it.

“Aziraphale,” He choked out, “I…”

“Yes dear?” The angel asked.

“I,” Crowley started, but he stopped.

He had been the one to pull the angel to Hell. And even though he was granting clemency to an arranged marriage that Aziraphale didn’t want, there was a power imbalance between the two of them. Crowley couldn’t make Aziraphale feel like his stay was conditional on returning the demon’s advances.

Crowley was a demon, he wasn’t an asshole.

“I’m glad you’re here.” He said, swallowing what he wanted to really say.

Aziraphale, not understanding the war occurring in his companion, smiled back at him. “I’m glad that I’m here too.”

Not every single meal between them had moments like these, but those moments happened with increasing frequency. Little did Crowley know that Aziraphale was feeling more and more like he couldn’t stand to leave him. That his time in Hell had been one of the best experiences of his life. That he didn’t want to leave, not when he could feel like he was helping someone very important to him do a better job. For someone he… someone he cared about. And maybe he wasn’t worthy of expressing how he felt, but in the meantime, he could do this. How could Aziraphale leave?

Though it turned out he may not have much of a choice. It all boiled down to choices, and Aziraphale had very few of them. Sure, he could help decide the menu for their meals, or which books he would take into the garden. Where or when he would weigh in on meetings. But when it came to the big picture, it was hard not to feel hopelessly bound by heaven.

It came to a head one morning, after three months of living in the palace as Crowley’s guest, as he coaxed Beelzebub and Dagon to join them for breakfast. They were going through some of the reports, mentioning that a few of the Eric’s were enjoying work as uber drivers. Aziraphale had a vague idea of what that was, but Crowley was enjoying himself hearing it, and that was enough for him.

But then Dagon spoke up, towards the end of the meeting. “This report also came through, from upstairs.”

“What came through?” Crowley took the form.

“It’s a note, from Michael,” Dagon said. “Gabriel’s been causing a storm - literally - to try and bring Aziraphale back up to heaven.”

A silence fell over the room. The good mood from just moments before was gone.

“Back up?” Aziraphale said, and then remembered that Sandalphon had seen them together. He slumped, realizing that he should have expected this to happen.

“She’s warning us that Gabriel’s going through all the channels to request you come back,” Beelzebub explained, “He’s been filling out paperwork nonstop about it.”

Good lord, Aziraphale swallowed a lump in his throat. “All that work?” He asked faintly.

The two demons nodded.

“We don’t need to do anything right now,” Dagon said, and Crowley hated that her tone was as sympathetic as she could make it. The two left, leaving Aziraphale and Crowley alone together.

For a moment, neither said a word.

“Well,” Aziraphale began, but Crowley spoke up.

“Angel, it doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“But it does,” Aziraphale stressed. He looked at Crowley earnestly. “I’ve enjoyed being here, but it may be time for you to let me go soon.”

Crowley lurched his body backward, as if by the force of his movements he could prevent Aziraphale from going anywhere.

“Look, today, just spend it with me, alright? I’ll cancel all my meetings, we’ll go off together. Stay together.”

“Go off… together?”

“Yeah, anywhere you’d like!”

It was so tempting. So, so tempting. To shirk off all responsibilities, go off in a fantasy with his closest friend. Aziraphale shook it off.

“Crowley I, I can’t. You know that I’m too be married to another angel.”

Crowley narrowed his eyes at him. “But you don’t actually want to get married! That’s just an order from Gabriel, say no!”

“I can’t say no!” Aziraphale cried out. Why didn’t Crowley understand? “I’m not like you, I can’t just make up my own rules.”

“Well, maybe you should make your own rules, and stop falling in line with whatever you get told,” Crowley snapped. He was tired. So tired of all the excuses that were made for an overbearing boss that had kept them meeting in secret for centuries. For his own sake, he was the king! The idea that he had to sneak about like a low-level disposable demon was so beneath him, and it was bursting out of him now with how sick of it he was. “So busy trying to be a perfect little angel that you can’t just do what you want? But you’ve been perfectly content to read your books here without a care in the world while you’ve been here. It’s near hypocritical.”

He had gone too far, and he knew it the moment he said it. As if the words were physical, Aziraphale took a literal step away from him and looked down in shame.

Fuck. Crowley swallowed audibly, regret pooling within him. When he spoke, his voice was softer. “Look, angel, I didn’t mean that-”

“No, you did,” and shit, he _had_ gotten to him.

Aziraphale’s voice warbled, on the verge of tears “You’re right. I’m sorry I’m not brave enough for you.”

“That’s not what I-” Crowley tried to say, but it was too late. Aziraphale had left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it!!


	4. His Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When faced with an ultimatum, Aziraphale makes a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look! It's the end of the fic! Thank you to everyone who has read and commented or liked or bookmarked or who has given this a cursory glance. It's really very kind of you and I am grateful. I don't know if I will write more in this verse... maybe? It was a lot of fun to explore and world-build. So who knows!

Not knowing where to go, Aziraphale let his feet carry him into the garden. It had become a beloved safe space for him in Hell, and that was still true even now. He moved further and further inward, trying in vain to keep his tears to a minimum.  He had been living a dream, staying with Crowley. Walking arm in arm with him, trying to help him with affairs of state, having lavish meals in his palace and private concerts. Pretending to be the  _ consort _ . Because that was what he  _ wanted _ .

The thought crystallized, clear as crystal, and Aziraphale had to stop and sit on a bench in shock.

“Oh,” Aziraphale said calmly, “I’m in love with him.”

Part of him felt exasperated. In reality, part of him knew that he had been in love with Crowley, and had loved him for a very long time. He sniffled a bit, because it really was just his luck that he would realize that he loved Crowley, deeply and truly right as he was expected to return to heaven to marry another.

“Angel!”

And speak of the demon.

Aziraphale didn’t move, knowing that he owed it to his friend to confess his feelings, however unreturned they may be. There was no way Crowley could love an angel as cowardly as himself. 

Crowley caught up to him rather quickly, having expanded a miracle to find his angel the moment Aziraphale had run from him. “Oh, you’re alright,” He said, relieved, walking over to the bench. Aziraphale stood, his face wracked with regret.

“Look, angel, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that,” Crowley wasted no time apologizing. “It was wrong, I don’t think that you’re-”

“It’s alright,” Aziraphale said, stepping closer. He gave Crowley a smile. “Crowley, you have been… so incredible. So much more than I deserve. I have been… so happy, living here with you. You’re an incredible ruler, and I’m so lucky that you’re my friend.”

Aziraphale took a breath. It was about finding courage. If Crowley could take over Hell, Aziraphale could say his piece. “You see, I’ve rather gone and fallen in love with you. It wasn’t hard. I probably have loved you for a very long time. I’m afraid I was a little too daft to realize it until now, terribly sorry my dear.”

After he said it, Aziraphale experience two emotions: dread, and elation. He felt pride, that he had been able to share how he felt. It was a relief. But there was also dread because his relationship with Crowley would be different now, forever, no question about it.

He could see the way Crowley’s face shifted as he had spoken, and when Aziraphale had confessed his love, Crowley’s jaw had dropped and his face went slack. Aziraphale bit back the disappointment.  Well, stiff upper lip, couldn’t be helped.

“Right,” Aziraphale let out a sad laugh, “I, well, I am sorry to have inconvenienced-”

His words were cut off.

When Crowley had chased after him, all the demon could think of was finally admitting to his angel how he had felt - how he had felt for so long. Crowley had known, really known, that Aziraphale was the one and only for him since Eden, since Rome, since he knew he could trust the angel and vice versa. And Aziraphale deserved to know that, had deserved to know that for a long time.

Aziraphale needed to know that the moment Crowley had free reign of the palace, the demon had made a wing for him in mind. That in Wessex he had wanted to ask Aziraphale to visit him, and maybe join him, perhaps for good, and become his consort. He wanted to court the angel by that Round Table Code the angel had signed on for. Because Aziraphale was worth it. No royal life was worth living without him in it.

And blast it all, the moment he found him on that bench, all those words died on his tongue, because the overwhelming pressure of losing him to heaven and some stupid arranged marriage was too much. Only then Aziraphale had to go and prove that he was every bit the bold creature that had stolen his heart, and confessed to him  _ first _ .

Hearing those words, this confession of love, to Crowley, it felt like the first time he had ever flown. The exhilaration of wind rushing through his wings, soaring to new heights, seeing all the potential before him. But this moment was better than flying, better than his crown, better than any of his powers. _Aziraphale_ _loved him._ It left him stunned, only he realized a moment too late that Aziraphale was taking that as a rejection, which wouldn’t do at all.

“Right,” Aziraphale let out a sad laugh, “I, well, I am sorry to have inconvenienced-”

Crowley surged forward and pulled Aziraphale into his arms. Without a moment’s more hesitation, he pulled the angel into a deep kiss. The way Aziraphale relaxed against him, the sensation of the angel kissing him back, Crowley wouldn’t have traded it for a thousand thrones.  They broke apart, and Aziraphale smiled up at him in exhilaration. As if Crowley had been the one to give him something generous, and not the other way around. 

“Crowley,” He breathed, and Crowley leaned in for another kiss, because he could.

“Conquering Hell,” Crowley whispered, “Was only worth it if I could share any of this with you. One of the first things I think of in the morning is what would make you happy. And I could spend the rest of my life thinking of ways to make you happy, and nothing would please me more. My heart stopped when I heard you say you were betrothed, because my heart’s not complete if you’re not in my life. I have loved you for a long time, because you’re kind, and soft, and so, so brave. I’m kicking myself, you know, and it’s your fault.”

Aziraphale made a protesting sound, but Crowley shushed him and kissed him again.

“You were the one who put their wing over me in Eden. You took that first step to be my best friend. And now, even though you know it’s going against everything that you’re part of, you were the one to tell me how you felt. How can I measure up to that bravery?”

There was no way Aziraphale could give an eloquent enough response, so instead, he leaned up and kissed him again.

Crowley resisted smiling, because it would mean breaking the kiss, and that would be an absolute travesty. But this, this embrace, this passion, this was something a demon could get used to. He did dip the angel, because what was the point of a height difference if he didn’t use it to pull off the sweeping moves he knew his angel secretly liked.

The angel made a surprised noise, but it was a happy noise. Crowley could tell. He knew these things about Aziraphale, and now more than ever they came in handy. Without a doubt, it was the best moment of his life.

Which was why it was only fitting that it be interrupted.

There was a bolt out of the corner of his eye – a flash that he realized a second too late was lightening. It took another second for him to remember that he was in the Underworld, and it should not be possible for there to be lightening. Another second passed, there was a clap of thunder, and Crowley’s heart stopped again but for a very different reason. It was Gabriel. He had figured it out precisely two seconds too late, and now the Archangel was twenty feet away and could see them now. Apparently he had decided enough paperwork was enough, and it was time to take action.  With barely any time to spare, Crowley tried to pull Aziraphale behind him, but it was too late.

“Demon!” Gabriel roared, storming toward him. Crowley drew himself to his full height, a snarl on his lips, prepared to curse the blasted archangel back to the cloud he floated from.  But Aziraphale beat them both to the inevitable punch.

“Gabriel!” Aziraphale moved in front of Crowley. “Gabriel, don’t you dare hurt him!”

Gabriel refused to be surprised, but Crowley’s jaw dropped. Aziraphale never once raised his voice like this to his boss, even when he had had to fill out paperwork for fifty years to get the money to open his bookshop.

Yet far from look mad, Gabriel looked pitying. “Sunshine, you’ve been hurt, and this demon has been torturing you. You’re not thinking straight. But it’s okay, I’m here to take you back.”

“The hell you are,” Crowley snarled, and Gabriel drew back, as if to try and hit him.

“You can’t stop me, demon spawn!”

“Enough, both of you!” Aziraphale demanded. He gave a pleading look to Crowley, silently begging for a chance to resolve this. In turn, the demon gave him a look that told him he would get a few minutes, but nothing more. Crowley was only patient for Aziraphale – in getting him what he needed, or convincing the angel to do a favor or agree to something. No other angel, demon, or human was awarded the same luxury.

“Gabriel,” Aziraphale said, looking at his supervisor, “I appreciate you coming, it’s really very kind, and I know that you mean well, but I promise that I’ve been perfectly fine. Crowley hasn’t harmed me.”

“How can I believe that?” Gabriel asked, and Aziraphale felt his temper begin to rise. Finally, he had been able to tell Crowley how he felt, have those feelings returned, and now he was being expected to prevent Crowley and Gabriel from killing each other? It was hardly fair. Why did Gabriel doubt him, or think that he needed guidance? He didn’t need Gabriel to guide him, he was over six thousand years old!

So it was why Aziraphale raised his voice now. “Because I’m telling you I’m fine, and I’m not a liar!”

“Then how do you explain him molesting you a second ago? I did research on humans, I know what pornography looks like now!”

Gabriel then raised his eyebrows, as if he had just made a very good point that Aziraphale should be impressed by. Aziraphale gave a great sigh.

“Because…” Aziraphale took a breath. “Gabriel, it was because I love him. And he loves me.”

“What?” Gabriel gasped, pressing a hand to his chest in shock, “How? Is that even… how can you love him? And demons can’t love, every angel knows that!” 

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes. “Loving Crowley is one of the easiest things I can do,” He snapped, ignoring the “ngk” from Crowley. Now was not the time for the demon to do one of his ‘syllables instead of words’ moments. “The hard part was not telling him for as long as I did. And I don’t know if demons can love or not. But this one does, and we are in love.”

Crowley coughed, so as not to grow too overwhelmed by Aziraphale. “I’ve loved him too. For a long time,” and then, because he couldn’t resist pulling one over on the wanker, he smirked, “So there.”

“Well, this is highly improper,” Gabriel said, and this was the closest to ‘flustered’ that Aziraphale had ever seen him. “He’s a demon. You’re an angel.”

“I’m the King,” Crowley reminded him angrily, “That bloody well counts for something. Royalty make ‘strategic marriages’ all the time.”

“And there’s Sandalphon to consider!” Gabriel cried out, as if there actually was Sandalphon to consider.

Aziraphale gave an indignant huff. “Really. Gabriel. I’m going to be honest with you. I have no intention, nor did I ever have  _ any  _ intention, of marrying him.”

The Archangel gave a dramatic gasp, once again clutching his chest in shock. Crowley couldn’t fight his own snigger.

“How could you say such a thing?” Gabriel said, “He was a perfect match for you!”

“Oh really?” Aziraphale challenged, narrowing his eyes. “Is that why he fought so hard to ‘save me’, when you all believed I was held against my will, and you all thought I was being tortured? Why he spent the last three months filling out paperwork to try and expedite my own return? Or try and send messages to me, or do anything to try and ‘save’ me and let me know he cared about me?”

It seemed to suddenly occur to Gabriel, and Aziraphale watched as his face began processing everything Aziraphale said, that maybe Sandalphon wasn’t the right angel for him. Sandalphon had not done any of what Aziraphale was mentioning. Sandalphon had just… worked on his projects, based on his docket. There had been no change in his work whatsoever. It seemed that Aziraphale was making a good point.

“Gabriel,” Aziraphale took a breath. “Listen. You have been… you have been a lovely boss. I have been so lucky to work for you. But your perception of Sandalphon doesn’t match the actual angel that would marry me.”

“But you can’t just marry a  _ demon,”  _ Gabriel said, still unwilling to let his prejudice go. “Think of the social ruin! And I can’t just allow that.”

Aziraphale clasped his hands, so the trembling would be minimal. This was it, the moment where Gabriel would order him up to Heaven, or order Crowley to let him leave. Crowley would then snap that he would do no such thing, because Aziraphale knew he could trust Crowley to keep him from having to make the decision. Better than most, Crowley understood how terrified Aziraphale was of resisting orders. It could mean falling, or being cast out, or punished in the cruel ways heaven was proficient at. His demon would protect him, as he had protected him in Paris, London, and so many other cities over time.

It would mean war between Heaven and Hell. Crowley would go that far for him. So would Gabriel. Aziraphale couldn't let them, and it was time for Aziraphale to make this decision himself.

“I can marry a demon,” Aziraphale decided, “And I’m going to.”

It was time he arranged his own marriage.

“Angel wait-“ Crowley said, but Aziraphale turned and ran. Aziraphale never made a habit of running – it was simply awful – but he needed to get to his destination before Crowley realized what he was planning.

“Hey!” Gabriel had shouted, but he didn’t understand the garden well enough, and was forced to trail after Crowley despite being the best runner.

Soon enough, Aziraphale had happened upon his goal: that center tree, with all the apples. The ones that would bind him to his demon, if he was judged worthy enough. Aziraphale only hesitated for a moment, and that one moment was spent sending a prayer to the Almighty, that he would be worthy enough to be Crowley’s partner. With no other time to spare, he reached out and took one. 

Aziraphale had never actually seen Eve eat the apple, back in the Garden. For the briefest moment, he thought of her. Had she been desperate? Was she out of time? Did it feel like her world would end if she couldn’t bite into the fruit?  If she had been half as desperate as him… Aziraphale had a greater appreciation for her choice.  Without a second more to lose, as Crowley and Gabriel found him, Aziraphale bit into it.

“No!” Crowley helplessly shouted. Gabriel didn’t understand, but only for a moment.

The first bite had no taste, none that Aziraphale could parse out anyway. Not that he was going out of his way to take stock – the stakes were much too high for him to snack. Aziraphale quickly took a second bite, then a third, fourth, and so on. When he finally finished the whole apple, Aziraphale finally looked up, holding the core in his fist. 

Crowley’s face was a cross between horror and awe, as if he didn’t know what to think or how to process what happened.

“Why did you do that?” He whispered. “Aziraphale?”

“Because I’m yours,” Aziraphale smiled. There was no weight of guilt or shame. It was the most relaxed he had ever felt. “It turns out that choosing you was quite easy after all.”

Any doubt Aziraphale may have had vanished by the look Crowley’s face. It was love. Pure love, the kind that was all his.

Their moment was broken by Gabriel. “What the fuck just happened?”

That was also the moment when the effects of the apple caught up to him. It felt like something bursting within him, and Aziraphale cried out in pain and lost his footing as his vision blurred. Crowley instantly rushed to his side, catching him before he hit the ground entirely.

“Angel!”

But Aziraphale didn’t hear his lover’s cry. There was a rushing in his ears that blocked all outside sound. Even his corporation didn’t seem to stay grounded within him. It was as if a part of him was floating above, seeing everything that happened. That was when he heard the voice.

_ ‘Hello, Aziraphale’ _

__

The disembodied angel looked about. That voice… it was no one voice. It wasn’t the Almighty. It wasn’t Satan. But… it seemed to be a strange manifestation of the two opposite sides in one.

Aziraphale tried to reply.  _ ‘Hello?’ _

__

_ ‘It seems you answered our call for the young king.’ _

__

_ ‘What call?’  _ Aziraphale questioned,  _ ‘What’s happening?’ _

__

_ ‘When he took over,’  _ The voice explained,  _ ‘We knew that he was not meant to rule alone. The Highest and Lowest authorities on both sides grew this plant to be the answer. We made sure that no being would think to use it for their personal gain.’ _

__

_ ‘Because whoever eats it becomes subservient?’ _

__

An odd sensation washed over him, Aziraphale realized belatedly that it was laughter.  _ ‘Oh, no, that was… well. You would call it ‘poppycock’.’ _

__

_ ‘You lied?’  _ Aziraphale was indignant, only remembering a moment later that this Voice was likely going to decide if he could keep living or not.  _ ‘Erm, sorry.’ _

__

The laughter rang again.  _ ‘Yes, little angel, we did lie. Sort of. Choosing this fruit, this life, is to make a permanent choice to be bound as the King’s Prince Consort. It is not a choice to be made for the sake of power or personal gain. The King is surrounded by demons, some who would wish to see him fall or usurp him. So it’s important that whoever make this choice make it with every intention to serve him and keep him at peace.’ _

__

_ ‘So it’s not an obedience enchantment?’ _

__

_ ‘No. But he is your King now.’ _

__

_ The thought filled Aziraphale with joy. He could hear the laughter sound again. ‘We thought you would like that. For that reason, for choosing this life, for your love, for your bravery, and your courage, we have deemed you worthy.’ _

__

_ That was the last thing he was told, before Aziraphale was thrust back into his corporation. _

Crowley didn’t like to make a habit out of feeling terror. Whenever something bad happened, if it was his fault, he liked to try and ignore it or cancel it out with a different problem altogether. Holding Aziraphale though, seeing him passed out and motionless in his arms, Crowley was terrified. Because this wasn't something he could fix, and he hated not being able to fix problems for Aziraphale.

“What did you do?” Gabriel was hissing at him. The archangel tried to reach out and grab Aziraphale, but Crowley drew back and growled at him.

“He chose me,” The Demon King snarled, “Not you. Not your little  _ posse.  _ Or your side. He chose me. He loves me. Get it through your thick skull.”

"You think I don't know what that tree is?" Gabriel snarled. "You think I wouldn't recognize something that came from the Garden? It's been tainted. Part of it felt… evil. It was somehow both evil  _ and _ holy and I know it's your fault. If he dies here it's war."

Crowley had never felt such anger for another in his life. "If you take him," Crowley vowed, "It will be."

Before Gabriel could give an angry retort, Aziraphale gave a heavy gasp. His eyes flew open, and he appeared wide awake and alert.

“Angel!” “Aziraphale!”

Aziraphale took a few more gasping breaths, his eyes widely searching for something. Crowley couldn’t say what, but the sight of his angel breathing and moving and  _ alive _ was the greatest gift he could ask for.

“What happened?” Gabriel asked.

Crowley ignored him, waiting for Aziraphale’s breaths to even out.

“Angel, are you with me?”

Finally, Aziraphale looked at him, and Crowley lost his breath at the sight of him. His eyes were so wide, so overwhelmed. Aziraphale nodded. Crowley let out a sigh of relief.

“What happened?”

Gabriel huffed in annoyance, but Crowley ignored him again. He was good at it.

“I… I was… floating … somewhere up there,” Aziraphale gestured faintly above. Both Crowley and Gabriel looked up, but they saw nothing.

Aziraphale continued, “I… I heard… I think the Almighty? Satan? Whoever made the seeds and planted the tree.”

Both angel and demon gaped at him. Aziraphale didn’t stop. “They… Crowley, they  _ approved _ .” He shifted, and Crowley helped him sit up. Neither moved though, not really, so Crowley was still holding him.

“But are you bound to me? In every way?” Crowley asked.

Aziraphale shook his head, both of them ignoring Gabriel sputtering.

“It’s not an obedience spell, but I’m your consort,” Aziraphale broke off, letting the words sink in for them both. They smiled at each other, “Crowley, I love you. And now we get to be together.”

Crowley grinned, a rare, genuine, elated, grin. “I love you,” He leaned in to kiss his angel, because he could. They continued to kiss for a few moments, before Gabriel cleared his threat. When that didn’t break them apart, Gabriel gave another pointed cough. Then another. They still did not part.

Finally, Gabriel said, “Okay, please stop this now.”

That broke Aziraphale and Crowley apart.

“Gabriel,” Aziraphale said firmly, “I just bound myself as Crowley’s Prince Consort. So I’m quite unavailable to marry any angel you try to bring me.”

“I’d kick them out anyway,” Crowley added, stealing another kiss.

Aziraphale watched Gabriel carefully, to see the emotions that came to his face. His former boss was not adept at masking how he felt. Even now, he could see the shock, the anger, the denial, and, finally, the resigned acceptance.

Gabriel gave a resigned sigh, “I can’t believe this.”

Neither Aziraphale nor Crowley said anything, determined to let him figure this out on his own.

“And you want him?” Gabriel said, asked but he clearly knew the answer. Aziraphale nodded anyway.

“In a way,” Aziraphale half-explained, half-reminded, “I’ve already married him.”

“Well,” Gabriel said, stretching out the ‘l’, “I guess…. I guess I had better get to the office and file some paperwork for this.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale smiled at him, “Thank you!”

Gabriel gave a half-hearted laugh, but he didn’t look angry. “Don’t think there’s any form that’s going to explain  _ this,”  _ he mused, “I’m probably going to have to invent a form just to have something to file. But if this is what you want… then… I’ll make it work upstairs.”

They didn’t need his permission, not with Aziraphale already eating the apple. Though all the same, it felt like a weight had lifted for Aziraphale.

“I appreciate your support,” Aziraphale said.

“Don’t thank me,” Gabriel said wryly, but without any heat. He stood up. “I’m going to check back in, for the reports, of course.”

“Of course,” Aziraphale agreed. Crowley snorted.

For a moment, Gabriel seemed to look angry. “I’m going to trust you demon, to take care of him.”

With a dramatic crack, there was a bright flash, and Gabriel was gone.

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Take care of him,” He mimicked, “As if I hadn’t been taking care of you for six thousand years, the nerve.”

Aziraphale gave an amused snort. “Would you like to debate that… or…” He gave Crowley a meaningful look.

The demon gaped at him, understanding at once. “You mean?” He gave a pointed look.

“Of course,” Aziraphale said, leaning into him once more. “I’m your Prince Consort, after all… shouldn’t we be consummating the relationship? After all, this is our wedding night, as it were.”

Aziraphale gave a delighted laugh as Crowley, needing no further prompting, stood with the angel in his arms like a new bride.

"You're right, we better make the most of it," he grinned, sweeping them both into the palace. 

The walk from the gardens to the palace went in a blur. Aziraphale alternated between laughing at the excessively romantic gesture - he had legs! - and kissing his new husband. Goodness, he reflected, they surely wasted no time! They made their way back to Crowley's chambers, and the demon placed him onto his bed. Aziraphale shifted, reaching to pull off his clothing, when a pair of hands settled over his. 

"Allow me," the King urged, and Aziraphale's throat went dry as he nodded. Aziraphale kept his eyes on his lover's face as his bowtie was undone, and his shirt unbuttoned. 

"This isn't moving too fast?" Crowley asked, looking at him.

Aziraphale shook his head, but was touched at the question. "No, not at all. I… I daresay that we have been dating for almost two thousand years, even if we didn't know. It’s about time we got a wiggle on." 

Crowley made an affronted noise, pulling Aziraphale's top layers off. He gently pushed the angel down and crawled on top of him, pulling off his pants.

"Wiggle on," he mocked, "I have been trying to court you since Wessex in 537, which would have gotten us together officially, don't try telling me I didn't know!"

Aziraphale laughed, and Crowley forgot about needing to be right at that beautiful sound. "That was not our first date!" He argued, "It was in Rome. I was the one to make the first move." This was punctuated with a satisfied wiggle. 

That wiggle was not going to win today. Crowley leaned down, so he could nibble at the angel's neck, and his hands fumbled at his trousers. Aziraphale gasped, and gave an “Oh! Crowley, yes!” in response to the nibbling. The demon felt a rush of pride - Aziraphale liked being marked? He was rather good at marking what was his. This would be a good match indeed. 

"You were very cute in Rome,” Crowley said, grinning as he pulled back to slide Aziraphale’s trousers and drawers off, “But that wasn’t our first date.” 

Aziraphale leaned up to help him. “Yes, it was!” He reached to help push the demon’s jacket off, but his hands were again rebuffed. Crowley pulled his own jacket off and went back to kissing his neck, hands grabbing onto the angel’s sides. He had gotten to lightly caress Aziraphale while they danced, but now he had all the access he could ever want _.  _ All that lovely skin, which was just as smooth and soft as he’d dreamed. There was so much to grab at, kiss, and bite - and it was all his. 

“Oh, oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale moaned as the King went to suck another bruise on his neck. Crowley moved down, sucking more bruises as he went down. 

The demon lifted his head long enough to say again, “It wasn’t our first date,” and before Aziraphale could cry out in protest, he instead cried out in rapture as Crowley swallowed him down. Crowley moaned around his cock, and Aziraphale gasped at the sensation.

“Crowley,” he heard himself begging, “Crowley please, please!” 

Crowley was devouring him at a languid pace, as if he had nowhere else he needed nor wanted to be, and was going to stay where he was for a while. Aziraphale buried his hands in the pillow behind him, not sure if he would want his hair pulled. His legs shook at the unrelenting pleasure, but Crowley had wrapped his arms around his thighs and was alternating between holding him in place and grabbing at his thighs. 

Aziraphale twitched, trying not to let himself go too quickly. This was incredible, but it wasn’t what he wanted with his love for their first time! 

“Crowley, Crowley,” he begged, “Please, dear, cease for a moment.” 

With a  _ pop,  _ Crowley’s head swung up to look at him. Aziraphale admired the wideness of his pupils, the evident desire of someone who had not sated their fill. “If you’re making complete sentences, I’m not doing something right,” He mused. 

The angel gave a rather uncharacteristic snort. “You’re doing plenty right, but this is wasn’t what I had envisioned for our first time.” 

Crowley leaned, moving his body in an exaggerated fashion to rest his head on Aziraphale’s thigh. It was a lovely pillow, and he said as such to get Aziraphale to blush a lovely pink. “Alright, what do you picture for this time, my angel?”

‘ _ My angel _ ,’ Aziraphale reflected that he rather liked that. “I want, if you would be so inclined,” He asked very politely, “For you to  _ join  _ with me, biblically. To… to  _ know  _ me…” 

Crowley could be a bastard when he wanted, it wasn’t just his angel. He pressed a kiss with a bit of a bite to his thigh, delighting in the resulting whimper. “Sorry darling, don’t understand that.”

Aziraphale was red now, both from the affection to the sensitive skin and being forced to use such coarse language. “To… park your Bentley in my garage…” 

If Crowley didn’t get it, Aziraphale was going to hide in his quarters and never come out. 

But the demon liked that phrasing, very much. “Oh, that’s what you want?” Crowley crawled up, wrapping his arms around him for a moment. Aziraphale reached up to run his fingers through the short red hair. 

“I want to look at you,” Aziraphale said, pressing a kiss to his lips. “While we make love.” 

Crowley groaned. “You’re a menace,” He lovingly snapped. 

Aziraphale snickered, but that turned into a moan very quickly as the demon wrapped his legs around his waist, reaching between them to start stretching him. A quick miracle had lubed his fingers. They kissed, helping Aziraphale focus on that as the demon stretched him out. Crowley tilted his head to nibble at an ear when Aziraphale let out a cry - he had curled his finger to find his prostate. 

“Gotcha,” Crowley whispered, and Aziraphale shivered in anticipation. 

“It’s alright,” the King whispered to him, kissing his temple, “I got you.” 

Aziraphale leaned up to give him a kiss. “I love you,” he whispered, in between his own exaltations of approval. Gently, Crowley moved his fingers, stretching him with a single-minded focus in order to make sure his angel would feel nothing but pleasure when they joined. It gave him the added bonus of hearing and seeing the way Aziraphale’s face changed with each twist of his fingers and every brush against his prostate. 

Those beautifully expressive eyes were welling up in joy, and Crowley leaned down to kiss the tears that fell from his eyes. The angel linked his fingers behind Crowley’s head, because he wanted to look at his lover and feel as close as possible. 

After a few moments, Aziraphale interrupted him, trying to form a coherent sentence. Crowley was rather proud that he was finding it difficult. 

“Need something angel?” He asked, giving a cheeky grin. It was difficult, very difficult, but he resisted the temptation to nibble some more as Aziraphale regained his breath. 

“I think that I’m ready,” Aziraphale decided, “And I would rather come on your cock then your fingers.” 

_ Fuck _ , the things Aziraphale could say. Crowley’s eyes burned for the love of him. Just for that, he leaned down to flick a nipple with his tongue so the angel would squirm.

"You'll come when I decide you come," Crowley growled, and gave a wolfish grin as Aziraphale pinked under him. “You like it when I’m in charge? When I  _ command  _ you?” 

Aziraphale was still blushing, and that was something Crowley would  _ never _ grow tired of. “I… look. When you take charge, when you hold me, when you command me… it affects me. It does something. It moves me.  _ You  _ move me, you always have. When I watch you command the others, walk with such assured confidence, and lean into your role, Crowley, not swooning into your arms has been the greatest hardship I have had to endure.” 

How could Aziraphale continue to say this? Just make pontifications of his love, as if it were easy? It seemed that once Aziraphale decided to commit to something, his angel did nothing halfway. What a consort he had. 

Crowley withdrew his fingers, smirking at the displeasure that Azirapahle voiced to that. But he wasn’t going to leave his angel wanting, hell no. Aziraphale gasped as Crowley slid inside him, arching his back in rapture. 

“Are you alright?” The King asked. He waited a moment, searching Aziraphale’s face for any sign of pain, but he didn’t see one. Aziraphale instead smiled widely at him, leaning up for a kiss. 

“I feel wonderful,” The angel replied, “Please, please make love to me.” 

Another night, Crowley would make him beg. He would draw it out, tease him, edge him until the angel cried from the torture. They would figure out how much Aziraphale liked to be ordered and what orders he enjoyed. They would get collars, items to mark Aziraphale as his both in and out of the bedroom, so there was no question of who he belonged to. 

But not tonight. Tonight was about them, about their joining for the very first time, and they had all the time in the world to love each other. Crowley moved at a steady pace, kissing Aziraphale as their bodies moved together. As one, they moved together, Aziraphale moving his hands to grasp at Crowley’s back. The demon groaned as his well-manicured fingernails dug into his back. 

Their pleasure rose and together as Crowley reached between them to grasp at Aziraphale’s member. Aziraphale whimpered, shuddering in his arms. 

“Please, Crowley, please-”

“Please, what?” 

“Please, my King, let me come,” Aziraphale begged, “You said I could when you decided, please, please-”

Oh, oh, that’s what this was? Crowley could hardly believe his luck, that he could have an angel, this most perfect angel,  _ his  _ angel beg for him and  _ obey _ . 

He grinned, speeding up his pace as Aziraphale sobbed in need. “Come for me,” Crowley ordered, and that was the final act. Aziraphale shuddered, crying out in rapture as he came between them. His cries turned into whimpers as Crowley didn’t stop. The demon kissed away his tears, determined to work him towards a second orgasm. His method proved effective, and Aziraphale sobbed once as he came again. Crowley groaned out his own release, kissing away the tears that fell. 

Their pace began to wind down, and Aziraphale focused on catching his breath. Crowley let himself just  _ be  _ for a moment, letting his face settle into Aziraphale’s neck. There were marks from where he’d bitten earlier, and now he gently kissed one. 

“How are we?” Crowley asked, “Are you here angel?”

There was a keening sound, but no actual words from his normally prolific angel. Crowley gave another kiss and lifted himself, and was rewarded with the gaze of his mate completely blissed out on his - their, it was their’s now - bed. The King grinned, leaning down to kiss his forehead. 

“I’ll be right back.” 

Aziraphale waited, humming to himself as he stretched out. That old phrase, the one about feeling like a cat with a canary, came to him and he giggled lightly. So many cliches, ones that used to make him roll his eyes when he read them, were now being re-evaluated and sorted to be perfectly viable under the present conditions. And just for thinking of the phrase ‘viable under the present conditions’ he giggled all the more. 

His demon returned a few moments later with some towels, and Aziraphale could feel them move across his skin, gently dabbed in water, and they helped clean him. Everything was a bit fuzzy, but he decided that as long as his King was with him, that it was alright. All he wanted at that moment was to cuddle into Crowley’s side under his blankets. Crowley gave a laugh, and Aziraphale realized that he must have said that out loud. Yet it still got him what he wanted, Crowley slid into bed a few moments later, and Aziraphale found himself being turned so he could rest his head on his King’s shoulder. 

“Was that alright?” Crowley asked with a whisper, gently running one of his hands through his hair. Aziraphale made a noise that sounded like a purr, nuzzling closer. 

“P’rfect,” He mumbled, already falling asleep. Crowley pressed a kiss to his temple, drifting off himself. Tomorrow they would have all the time to explore each other more thoroughly. It was their honeymoon now, after all. 

\----Several Months Later-----

“Why are we being kept waiting around for them?” Hastur growled, slouching petulantly in his seat. The Dark Council was all gathered in what was the Dining Hall, all seated around the great table. They were supposed to meet to decide the agenda for the upcoming decade, something they had done countless times before, and this required the entire council present at once. Though the meeting could not start until the King arrived, and he was  _ late _ .

Beelzebub raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him. “Because he’s the King, newly married, and they set the rules. He doesn’t wait for us, we wait for him.”

“I can’t believe,” Hastur said, still not willing to let go of his bad mood (though most on the council knew this had more to do with him wanting to be grouchy than anything else), “That we have to listen to an  _ angel  _ now. What kind of Hell are we in that our King would listen to him before us?” 

“You’re just in a bad mood,” Dagon jeered, grinning in a way that accentuated her spiked teeth, “Because the Prince Consort criticized your report the other day and he was right.”

Ligur sniggered as Hastur sputtered, but no one missed that he didn’t deny it. They also knew perfectly well that Hastur didn’t mind the Prince Consort. Not when hearing about moments that Aziraphale could take his own revenge and be petty. Demons loved revenge, and they loved it when people were petty. But someone had to lean into the principle of the thing, being wary of change. And Hastur was plenty wary. 

The moment was broken as the Usher banged his spear against the ground.

“Announcing,” He proclaimed, “His Dark Majesty Crowley, and the Prince Consort.”

All demons stood as the doors opened, and Crowley and Aziraphale made their way into the meeting room. Aziraphale was holding onto Crowley’s arm, leaning into him, and moving at a slower pace. The king had no reason to encourage him to walk faster, he looked proud more than anything. They made their way to the head of the table. 

“Alright,” Crowley said, already sounding bored as he walked, “I’m only here ‘cause my angel told me this was important, so this better not take long.”

Ligur wanted to make a jape about them being in a hurry to go off and fuck, but he valued his corporation and said nothing.

Crowley gave a wave, and the chair at the end, usually reserved for him, stretched out slightly. He pressed a kiss to Aziraphale’s temple and then sat. Aziraphale sat next to him, but they were so close he was practically on the demon’s lap.

“Right,” Beelzebub said, not bothering to react. This had been the new normal, and as long as the work was done, they didn’t care how close the demon and angel sat. If anything, they were glad to have Aziraphale there, he helped keep Crowley focused. Beelzebub passed over a report to Crowley, and Aziraphale opened it for him, both peering at it.

“Ready to begin?” Crowley asked, but the council didn’t answer. They knew who he was talking to.

Aziraphale smiled, giving him a quick kiss. “Ready dearest. Let’s begin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that you enjoyed it!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm Shay_Moonsilk on Tumblr, Discord, Instagram, and here, let me know what you think!


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